I work hard and I spend hard

I’ve been working like a mad woman for over four decades and I’m the first to admit that I sometimes spend like a madwoman, too.

I once bought a pair of $900 antique throw pillows when I was decorating a new apartment. I fell in love with an orange handbag for $2,000 and immediately handed over my charge card. I used to fork over $500 every six weeks to have my hair dyed. I don’t only spend on myself. I enjoy buying luxurious gifts for people I love, especially for my son, daughter and husband. I’ve even bought Rigby (our Norfolk terrier) a quilted, ultra suede coat for a small fortune.

I figure it this way: I work hard, so it’s okay to spend hard, just as long as I die before my money runs out.

I’ve saved money (for that proverbial rainy day), although far less than I would have if I was more financially  judicious. I hope I can continue to work and spoil myself, but I’d give up my luxuries in a microsecond if I needed the money to help someone in need.

My FOF friend is in just such a situation. She’s been spending freely for years, but now she’s cutting back expenses in lots of places to help her son and daughter-in-law pay monumental medical bills to cover treatment for their twin boys.

“Nothing else matters,” she told me.  I’m with my pal. Nothing else matters at all.